Your Own Skin
by Sylvia1
Summary: When a demon's curse causes Grell and William to switch bodies, neither are prepared for the challenges that await them. From unexpected evaluations to difficult daily beauty regimes, both of them are eager to be back in their own bodies. Even with the expertise of Undertaker, Sebastian, and Ciel, breaking this demon's curse is more difficult than they expected.
1. The Mocking Demon

Written for the 2014 Tumblr Event: #TeamGrelliam1216

My prompt: Freaky Friday prompt (SFW): Grelle and William switch bodies for two weeks because of some really weird demon curse.

This fanfic is rife with some head canon that a friend and I have created for this world, mostly a few backstories and whatnot but nothing that should take away from the characters themselves. Comments are always appreciated!

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><p>It was never a good sign when any reaper of London Dispatch had to call in backup. They were all excellent fighters, even Ronald who hadn't been out of Academy for as long as the others still had very high marks in combat. So when he had to call in assistance, William and Grell were quick to respond. Especially when they found out that demons were involved. What an understatement.<p>

When they arrived the abandoned building, Ronald was trying to hold off all twelve of them. Apparently they had located him shortly after he sent off the pigeon to get help. His lawnmower deathscythe was quite good at keeping them back, but Ronald was young and he couldn't hold up against such an onslaught for long. He had taken out three of the demons already, but the others were working together against him. The foolish ritualist was laughing in the corner, likely quite mad; he would have to be to summon so many demons without knowing what to do with them. It was just another mess that his dispatch would have to clean up.

"Grell," he glanced to his red-haired companion. "Slice through them."

She grinned at him with shark teeth and raised her deathscythe into the air with a deafening roar. It was a look that still made him nervous after sleeping with her for so many years. "Oh baby, I was hoping you would say that."

Ronald used the distraction to bash one of the demon's heads off. "It's about time you two showed up! Here I thought you forgot about me."

Grell rushed toward him and demons were darting for the rafters in shadowy streaks.

"Nonsense," William said as he adjusted his spectacles. "Assistance is to arrive ten to fifteen minutes after a pigeon is sent. By my calculations, we arrived in eight." He extended his scythe out to skewer one of the demons in the rafters, slicing through its cinematic record like tissue paper. "Unless you're claiming my pigeons are slow."

Ronald's cocky grin cracked. "No, but I mean, I could've handled them on my own. I just thought Senpai would want-" He was cut short when he had to dodge away from three more demons that dropped down on him. Then a fourth one came behind him and kicked him in the back of the head. Grell gave out an animalistic growl and cut up the demon's extended leg vertically, splitting it like a bloody log. The demon's cinematic record emerged, but Grell was having too much fun turning the room into a bloodbath. Ronald fell to the ground unconscious.

William sighed. Ronald had been doing so well too. If he spent half as much time fighting as he did talking, he would have probably cut through all of the noxious beasts by now. He glanced up to the rafters to tear through a second demon, but spotted another shape lurking farther away. It was still unlike the others, and might actually have a bit of intelligence if it was keeping away from a trio of shinigami. "Keep an eye on him, Grell."

She grinned back at him, her face drenched in demon blood. "I'm on it!"

He backed out of the building and stealthed before entering again, then made his way to the rafters. He crept cautiously along the wall, stepping along each piece of wood without making a sound. Here he could get a good look at the hulking demon. It was cloaked in shadow and crouched, its red eyes watching the battle below a bit too keenly for William's taste. Those others must be its minions; this one was the real threat. He peered down at the ritualist who stood still laughing in the corner. It wasn't even human, was it? This was some sort of set-up, a test concocted for this creature's amusement. William narrowed his eyes then sent his deathscythe out to clasp around the demon's throat. He let his stealth drop and stepped forward; the red eyes locked onto him.

"I assume you know it's impossible to escape us." The beast merely stared, and William wondered if perhaps it didn't have the ability to speak. There were a few powerful demons like that, but they normally had little interest in visiting the human world. Unless there was some other purpose. "You are probably one of the more powerful demons in London at this point, and probably one of the least intelligent as well for daring to come here."

The hulking form narrowed its eyes. Ah, so it could understand him then. Excellent. Striking their pride always seemed to elicit a reaction. He pulled out a scrolled up paper and held it up, allowing the paper to unroll before him.

"Do you see these names? These are human souls that have dropped off the map. Disappeared. I'm assuming your kind is responsible; more likely, you know who has done this. We want its name. Give that to us, and I'll let you live tonight." He allowed the blades of his deathscythe to tighten a miniscule amount so that they dug into the beast's flesh, but not enough to draw blood. "Otherwise I'll kill you and we'll figure it out on our own. It really doesn't matter to me."

The demon stared at him, then shimmered as it gave a hoarse laugh.

William put the list away and adjusted his glasses. "You find this amusing? You find your own death amusing? I assure you it's-"

Then the creature began to whisper words that William couldn't identify, words that seemed to slither through the air like a smoke trail. He sighed, "Begging for your life won't help. We are unaffected by your threats or attempts at pity." The final word seemed to lodge itself in William's ears, echoing over and over again as though he were trapped in a canyon. He shook his head, but when he looked over the world was still shaking. The demon was laughing again, it was above him this time and he saw the sharp-toothed grin and red eyes staring down at him. Then he slammed into the ground.


	2. Something's Not Right

"Are you okay?"

It took a moment for William to recognize Ronald's voice. He couldn't even make sense of the words at first. It was like he was stepping out of a dense fog and was finally able to see the world. Ron was leaning over him, a trail of blood marring his face and clumped in his blond hair.

"What happened?" He whispered.

Ronald gave a relieved smile. "You two just collapsed. I mean, luckily I was just coming to, so we all didn't get torn apart by demons, you know?" He glanced nervously behind him and William arched an eyebrow. He wasn't used to seeing Ronald look so nervous. Of all the members of his team, Ronald was usually the most self assured, even when he made enormous mistakes. "Normally I don't get knocked down so easily like that, Senpai, I promise. Please don't tell Will about it. I don't think he saw it happen."

Why in the world was Ronald calling him Senpai? And why was he speaking about him in the third person? He sighed and reached up to adjust his spectacles, only to feel a glasses chain shift on his neck. He blinked and reached over to feel long hair on his shoulder.

"That demon," he growled, surprised at both the points of his teeth and the pitch of his voice. He turned to spot his body lying face-down. "Is…William?"

"No, he's still out. He seems okay though."

He narrowed his eyes, "And his deathscythe?"

Ronald gave him a confused look. "Uh, it's in his hand."

"Good…" William relaxed a bit. He was afraid the demon might have stolen it when their bodies switched. He pushed himself up to his feet and straightened his shirt. At least, he tried to, but Grell's vest seemed to be carefully form-fitted and didn't want to move much. She had very odd taste in clothing.

Ronald glanced back to William's body. "Want me to get him?"

"No, I'll take care of it. I want you to head back to the dispatch. I'll need a full report of everything that happened."

He gave a sigh, "Right now? I mean, I got hit pretty hard. I thought I would maybe take it easy for a couple of hours before I deal with all that paperwork. It's going to give me such a headache."

William blinked. Good grief, did he give Grell this much trouble all the time? How ridiculous. He tried to think of how Grell would respond, but his acting skills were certainly not the best. He gave a small, awkward smile. "Quit complaining and get it done." The mixture of the creepy smile and stern orders seemed to throw Ronald off.

"Okay, Senpai, no big deal. Hope you didn't hit your head too hard."

"I'm fine," William adjusted his glasses, frowning as the chain shifted on his neck and moved his long hair on his shoulders. How in the world did Grell deal with that all the time? "I'll take care of him… don't worry." He gave another awkward smile.

"Yeah well, just try not to feel him up, alright? He hates it when you do that."

William's felt his face flush at the thought, but Ronald had already bounded off. Good grief, Grell hadn't done that to him since their Academy years. At least, that he knew about. He gave a heavy sigh and went over to check on his lover.


	3. Accepting the Blame

He glanced behind him once more to make sure Ronald had left, flicking the red hair aside in annoyance, then knelt down at his lover's side. "Grell? Grell, can you hear me?"

"Will?" Her eyes fluttered open, only it was with his eyes instead of her own. He was so plain looking compared to her; it was almost a tragedy to have her trapped in such a form. "Oh gods, I can't see a thing!" She rubbed at her eyes and he realized that his glasses had been knocked off.

"Hang on. Here they are." He placed them on her and her eyes went wide.

"Holy shit! Will? Am I losing my mind?"

"No, I don't think so. Otherwise we would both be crazy. I think our bodies were switched somehow, though I'm not sure how or why. I think that demon I was fighting-"

"Wait," she narrowed her eyes. "The one up top? I saw him, but I had my hands full."

"He said something to me, but I couldn't make sense of it. It wasn't in any language I-"

"William!"

He froze and arched an eyebrow at her.

"Why did you let it speak to you? Dammit, I knew you weren't exactly a top fighter, but I thought you had a bit more sense than that!"

William adjusted his spectacles and got to his feet so he could glare down at her. "I was questioning it, I'll have you know."

Grell gave a weak laugh and he helped her to her feet. "Questioning it. Why not reap it and look for the answers yourself?"

"That would hardly do me any good. I doubt it was in a pact, especially with this many lesser demons at its call. It's cinematic record could go on for millennia. I don't have time to-"

Grell crossed her hands and jutted her hips to the side. It was bizarre to see his body in such a strange pose. "So you were lazy," she spat.

"No, I simply thought it would be inclined to give information with a deathscythe to its throat!"

She rubbed at her temples. "Honey, it's a demon. They're never truthful, you know that!"

"It's been my experience that they can be if given the proper motivation." He adjusted his glasses.

Grell grinned and came over to loop her arms around his waist. "Oh lover, I know you hate demons, but you really shouldn't go around threatening them without thinking of your own safety." Her smile faded, "Your hatred of demons has screwed us both over."

He felt a blush creep up his cheeks despite his attempt to hide it. It was much easier to repress such emotion in his own body; Grell's seemed to have a complete lack of such inhibitions. "I needed to ask it about something but… it apparently thought this was more amusing."

She narrowed her eyes. "There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know what you're talking about. We should probably decide how we're going to-"

"No, no, I recognize that look even on my face. You're horrible at keeping secrets from me, baby. Are you blushing?"

William sighed.

"You might as well tell me. I'll beat it out of you if you don't. With your own deathscythe, I might add!" She snickered.

He reached into Grell's coat pocket, much to her surprise.

"Ooh, want to feel yourself up?"

"No," he stated and handed the paper over. "I've been charged with determining the fate of these souls. All of them have dropped off the map over the past three days. Management assigned it as a top priority."

"We've got a more urgent problem now though, don't we?" She looked up at him with pleading eyes. Damn, it was creepy to see such an expression on his own face. "Why the hell didn't you tell me about this, Will? I'm your Second in Command! I could have helped you out. I wouldn't have been too lazy to sort through a demon's record."

William ruffled his shoulders. "They specifically requested you not be involved. They feared you might be responsible for them, similar to the murders in the Jack the Ripper cases."

Grell gaped at him. "But I reaped those women!"

"I know you did, but it was still seen as misconduct. You do it once, and you're seen as prone to it."

She smacked him in the head with his deathscythe.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For allowing them to treat me like a criminal. Just because they give you an order, William, doesn't mean you should follow it. How ridiculous! I ought to hunt our manager down and throttle him."

William put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't you dare! Not in my body in any case."

Grell's fury broke into heavy laughter. If the emotional expressions looked unusual earlier on William's face, the full out laughter was absolutely bizarre.

"Listen," William said, stepping closer to her. "We need to set some ground rules. Namely how we're supposed to act around the rest of our dispatch."

"Oh goodness," she rolled her eyes. "I can't imagine what they'll think."

"We can't let them know about this."

"What? Why not? They deserve to know their Supervisor and Second in Command are now opposites."

"We'll never hear the end of it, but that's not what bothers me. I have a review that you need to attend in my place tomorrow. It's an evaluation with our manager, you know, the man you said you wanted to throttle just a moment ago?"

"Red Dodgson? Oh hell, Will. He and I don't exactly get along…"

"Exactly. You'll need to be on your best behavior. Because you're me."

"Will, I can't fool him. He's our manager!"

He put his hands on her shoulders, "You're the best actress around. I don't know of anyone else I would want to be me."

"Really?" She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into an embrace. "Wait, what are you going to do?"

"Find someone who can help us."

She smiled, "Go find Sebastian Darling. I bet he would know how to get rid of a demon's curse like this.

He blinked, "You want me to ask that insufferable demon for assistance? Preposterous!"

"Do you have a better idea?" Grell took his hands in hers and squeezed them tight. "We're in this together, Will! Can't you try to be nice to a demon just for a day?"


	4. Beauty Woes

"What do you mean, these are glued on?" Will sat on the edge of the tub, pointing to the falsies on his eyes. It would have been adorable if he wasn't in Grell's body.

"Oh, calm down! They're really quite easy to take off if you'll just be patient a moment." She sat down beside him and leaned in close. "Now hold still."

He blinked at her with concern, his partially removed left false eyelashes fluttering helplessly like a bird with a broken wing. He had already tried to yank them off on his own, but Will wasn't exactly skilled in the art of beauty products. "It's not going to hurt, is it? Because I tried pulling them off already, and that was not pleasant."

She sighed, resisting the urge to smack him. "You know I've been wearing these almost since Academy, you big baby." She tried to grab hold of the lashes, but Will kept blinking. She sat back and growled, "Would you stop that?"

"I can barely see you!" He said, "How in the world do you do this every single day?"

"It's practice honey. Look, once we take these off, you can put your glasses back on, alright? But you've got to trust me."

"I do," he stammered. "I just…"

"I know, it's difficult. Just take a deep breath or something, and look up. You'll be less likely to freak out if you're not waiting for it to happen."

His whole body tensed up as though she was going to electrocute him or something, but he did as he was told. She couldn't help but smile. Her sweet William. Yes, he might be in her body, but it was still him in there. He was unmistakable. In a strange way, it made her love him even more.

He sighed, "You're mocking me, aren't you?"

"No, I'm taking them off like you asked." She leaned in quick, took hold of the corner of the lashes, and pulled them along the lid instead of straight off. "Hang on, one more. There. See how painless that was?"

He felt around and pulled his glasses on, feeling on his eyelids where the lashes had been. "It's still sticky…"

"That's what the makeup remover is for, love."

He nodded as though he had assumed as much. She gave him a warm smirk.

"It's odd to see you smile so much. It doesn't look right on me."

"Oh? Are you allergic to them?"

He sighed and went to the sink to pull out his comb. "No, I just think it's odd. It makes me realize how little I do smile. It's… unsettling."

She came behind him and put her hands around his waist. "Just because you don't smile doesn't mean you're unhappy."

"I know," he clasped his hands around hers. Grell's hands were always smaller and colder than Will's. He was always so warm-blooded compared to her. It was strange to feel the chill of his fingertips against her skin. Hell, it was strange to to actually be tall for once too. She leaned forward and put her head on Will's shoulder.

"You know," he said. "If you want to try it, we could, but I'm not sure I'll enjoy it much."

"Try what, sex?" She giggled in a way very unbecoming of William and hugged him tighter. "Is that what you're thinking about?"

William sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "I just don't know if I could do it. Not in the fashion that your body is used to."

Grell's smile faded. He was talking about positions. She hadn't even considered that. It was in that moment that Grell realized the extent of this curse, the true danger of it. She wasn't exactly a sex addict (at least she didn't think she was), but knowing that sex might not be an option suddenly made the entertaining situation quite dire. Unless they decided to switch positions, which if Grell was honest with herself, she wouldn't entirely enjoy either.

She hugged him tighter then let go and went to wash her face for bed at the sink. "Will, we need to break this curse."

"Tell me about it. Any thoughts on where to start?"

"Sebastian Darling might help, though he'll be difficult to convince, and his young master even more so." She dried her face on the towel, feeling like she must be forgetting something. Surely Will had to do more than wash his face and brush his teeth before bed. So little prep work seemed almost blasphemous!

William gave a heavy sigh and when Grell put her glasses on again to look at him, she had to bite back laughter. William had tried to brush his hair with a comb, but of course the comb didn't go farther than a few inches from his scalp. Grell's hair was of a very different texture than William was accustomed to. He was staring at the mirror with the look of a kicked puppy.

"Grell, I don't know how long I can deal with this."

She swept forward, untangled the comb, then pulled out her own brush and started going through the long locks. "It's okay. It's just hair."

"No, it isn't okay. It's more than the hair, Grell, it's the eyelashes, it's the makeup, it's the undergarments - I can't do this. I can't be you."

"Well I don't know what to tell you, honey. Next time don't talk to demons?"

Will gave a bitter laugh, "Yes, that's great advice. And who are we going to ask for help again?"

Grell frowned and finished up the brushing. He had a good point there, though she liked to think Sebastian was in a completely different league than the beast that had switched their bodies. He was handsome and polite and quite the gentleman. Sure he was a demon, but he was certainly the most likable demon she had ever met, at least the best eye candy.

"Then there's my evaluation tomorrow," Will groaned as they headed into the bedroom. "I hope you'll be on good behavior with him. Red could have any of us fired in an instant, or at least reassigned."

"You call him by his first name? I've only ever called him Mr. Dodgson." She climbed in bed and frowned as she watched Will struggle with her neck chain. He was having far worse of a time with this than she was; but there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. Really he was responsible for getting them into this mess, though perhaps that was most of the reason he was so frustrated. He was angry with himself. Will always was his own worst critic.

Muttering a curse he climbed in bed beside her, turned out the light, and pulled her close to his chest. There in the dark, she could at least pretend that she was herself again, at least, a version of herself that she was accustomed to.


	5. Keep It Together

When Grell awoke, the bedroom was just beginning to lighten from the break of dawn, but William was already up and getting ready in the bathroom. She climbed out of bed, stumbling when she couldn't see a damn thing. Oh yes, William was as blind as a bat. She knocked something off the nightstand before she found his glasses and slipped them on.

"Will?" she called to him, frowning as it came out in Will's voice. She never would get used to that. She tried to put on her slippers, but Will's feet were bigger than hers, and her heels hung over the back of the shoes. She shuffled to the bathroom, blinking at the bright light. "Will? Is everything okay?"

"Yes," Will was standing at the mirror, but Grell could hardly recognize herself. He had removed her glasses chain and pulled on a pair of plain black slacks that Grell didn't even remember owning. He was still wearing her regular buttoned up shirt, but had matched one of his plain black ties with it instead of her red ribbon. He also hadn't put on her vest. Her long, red hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, reminiscent of the hair style that she had seen in his fan photos of the Legendary Reaper. The look brought out all the hard angles of her jaw, all the masculinity of her body, and he hadn't even put on any makeup to soften her appearance.

She tried to speak but her throat constricted. Her eyes burned as though they wanted to spill tears, but these eyes were unaccustomed to such emotional displays. So she just stood in the doorway, staring in open-mouthed horror at the man who stood before the mirror. It was like Will had transported her back in time to Academy. It was as though he had undone all the work she had done over the years to feminize herself in a single morning.

"I thought of someone else I could try visiting, so we don't have to rely on Michaelis and his fickle master," he said as he retrieved his deathscythe from where he had left it leaning against the wall. He turned to her and instantly his facade broke at her expression. "Grell? Are you alright?"

She managed a weak nod, "Yes, you just…" she searched for the right words. "You make me look so different from what I'm used to."

He sighed, "I tried to put on the makeup that you showed me last night, but…" he glanced to the countertop at the array of opened makeup containers he had tried. There must have been a dozen of them, from foundations to concealers to eyeshadow. Now that she was closer she saw that William had indeed put makeup on, but it wasn't right. He gleamed in the light and she was pretty sure he had used a concealer as a foundation, but still her heart leapt at the fact that he had tried. Somehow the horror that had filled her at his dress and initial appearance subsided a bit. He had tried. Even though he hadn't a clue what he was doing, he tried because he knew it would make her happy. She wiped at a tear that streaked down her cheek, possibly the first that Will's body had shed in ages, and wrapped her arms around him. Will stood there in shock as she squeezed him tight, burying her face in his hair to keep him from seeing the possible tears.

"Grell?"

She pulled back finally and sniffled. "Thank you for trying, dear. I never thought you would even do that."

He gave a weak smile. "I tried. I didn't do a very good job, but I thought that it would look suspicious if the others spotted me."

She nodded. Up close she could even see the eyeshadow he had slapped on. At least it had gone in the right place. She blended it in with her thumbs, then gave him a long kiss.

When she released him Will looked even more concerned. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine now. I love you, do you know that?"

He gave a warm smile this time and pushed up the red glasses. "I know. Just don't be late for my evaluation, alright? It starts at nine o'clock."

"I know," she sighed. "We're trying to have a moment here."

"Yes, but I need to get going. I want to make sure I won't miss him."

She stole another kiss from him before he headed out. It was a good thing he was leaving so early though. He looked like William trapped in her body, especially since he insisted on bringing his deathscythe with him. He never was very good at blending in.

She turned to look at herself in the mirror, her William in the mirror. She had far fewer tools at her disposal. "Alright girl, think like a man. What does William do in the morning exactly?" She glanced to his razor sitting on his end of the countertop and frowned. Being a shifter, she never had to shave herself, but William still needed to. She felt her chin and the hard bristles that stuck out. She couldn't go to his evaluation looking like this, but she hadn't ever really had to shave her face before. She picked up the razor with a shaky hand and found his shaving cream. Even a small slip of her hand could mar her beautiful William's face.

"Keep it together, girl," she said as she applied the cream to her jaw. "Don't you dare screw this up." She put the razor blade to her face and gently dragged it across.


	6. The Body Thief

Hours passed as William sat on the rooftops watching the boarded up windows of the shop. He watched as the morning workers walked through the thick, London fog and off to their jobs; he smelled the morning coffee vendors as they faded and turned into the afternoon eel and oyster vendors; he waited as the streets filled with horses and buggies until foot traffic was almost impossible. Perhaps he wasn't going to show, he thought. Perhaps he had abandoned this location completely.

He stood and stretched his legs, trying to figure out some alternative. He didn't want to have to go to the Phantomhive Manor, and he suspected Grell wouldn't have wanted it either, especially with the way she had looked at him that morning. He hadn't a clue how to make Grell's body attractive, feminine; but to be honest, he wouldn't have found that very comfortable. At least this way he could rely on his fighting prowess if he needed it. In Grell's enormous coat and all, he would probably end up falling on his face.

Then a cloaked figure in a dark hat stopped at the front of the shop, but William couldn't make out his face. He was tall enough to be him, but it could still be a coincidence. He could easily have someone else sent to access his shop in the meantime, and William wasn't in the mood to deal with one of his creations. The figure unlocked the front door and opened his cloak to put his keyring away. That was when William spotted the flash of buckle along his foot. It had to be him. He stealthed, leapt down to the street in a smooth motion, and inched around the carriages. The figure was heading inside, but William fell in close behind him and slipped into the darkened shop.

The figure turned around and pulled off his hat, letting his silver hair fall down around his shoulders. He pulled off his cloak and hung them both onto nails that were sticking out of the wall. After the Campania incident, London Dispatch had been removed from the situation almost completely. Upper Management had taken control, and it had taken him several weeks of needling his Manager, Red Dodgson, for details before he finally gave in. The Interloper was in fact the Legendary Reaper, perhaps the most famous shinigami in all of Europe. Apparently several failed attempts had been made years ago to drag him back, but multiple Special Forces Units couldn't bring him in. He was just that good of a fighter, apparently.

William knew he was out of his league in a fight with him, but that wasn't why he was here. The Undertaker was also perhaps the only shinigami William knew of to dabble in magic. That was the part of the report that had plagued him with insomnia in the middle of the night. That was the part that had made him come to find him. Despite the fact that he was a deserter, the Undertaker was still more reliable than a noxious demon. The very thought of letting that creature cast a spell on him made his skin crawl. The Undertaker though was a different story. His bane was his curiosity, and William was certain that a curse to switch bodies would intrigue the old shinigami. At least, he hoped it would.

Undertaker went to the back of his shop and reached into a coffin to pull a lever. A trap door slid back silently to reveal a staircase, and he descended without even an oil lamp to light his way. William gave a heavy sigh. This was going to be more difficult than he anticipated. He followed down slowly, giving his eyesight time to adjust to the light. The stairwell met at a stone floor, but there were fewer coffins here than he had expected to be. Instead there were heavy metal doors with bars on them. He could hear the shuffling of disfigured feet from the rooms, with the occasional groan. So this was where he kept his undead. Upper Management had expected him to be keeping them in piles of coffins in some cemetery, not here in the middle of downtown London.

Undertaker lit an oil lamp at the far end of the room, illuminating his toothy smile as he chuckled. "There's no need to hide, stranger. Please, come chat with me."

William felt his heartbeat thundering in his throat. His hands grew sweaty as he clasped his deathscythe tighter. How did he know he was here? Sure, William didn't go into the field very often, but he prided himself on being exceptionally good in every facet of his job, including reaping. Save for that small incident during his final exam, he had never had a hitch when reaping. He had certainly never been found out when he was stealthed. Perhaps the old reaper was bluffing.

Undertaker seemed quite sure of himself though, and in fact had his head positioned in William's direction. He dragged up a stool and laced his long fingertips together as he sat down. "Come now. I'd rather this not take an ugly turn. Wouldn't rather talk instead of fight?" He gave a long chuckle, "I dare say you've got a better chance talking to me than you do a fight. Especially down here in my home."

William took a deep breath. He had of course considered that this could turn into a fight, but it was a foolish move to follow him down here. He should have engaged him up top when there weren't some unknown number of undead that could be released at a moment's notice. Grell would have known better. She had always been the better tactician; William was more a strategist. But he had also studied the methods of the Legendary Reaper for some time. Curiosity was his bane, but he also appreciated good conversation. That was partly the reason he seemed so fond of humans; they were apparently better conversationalists than most shinigami. He might have fallen for this supposed trap, but William knew the reaper behind them. He stepped forward and let his stealth fall away. "Good evening, Undertaker."

The old reaper's smile grew wider and he sat back in his chair absolutely pleased with himself.

"I'm sorry for the deception," William continued. "I assure you that I don't normally stalk someone of your… fame, but you're a difficult person to find."

"That I am," Undertaker was peering at him curiously, and tossed aside some of his bangs to get a better look. "I'm not too keen on being stalked though. Come," he gestured. "Step closer. I can't see a damn thing with you skulking in the shadows."

William took a few steps closer, quite aware of the reach that the famed deathscythe would have, and to try and stay clear of it. "Again, my apologies. I'm afraid my… colleague and I have run into a bit of trouble, and-"

"Sutcliffe? My goodness, is that you?" He looked him up and down in absolute confusion. "Gone back to the Butler garb, have we?"

"No, no, I know that's what I look like, but-"

The curve of the blade was on his throat in an instant. William hadn't even seen him pull the satoba from his robe, but suddenly there the scythe was, at his throat, and larger in life than in any of the pictures he had seen. Part of him was terrified, but the other part of him felt honored to have such a fine weapon brandished against him.

"You look like Sutcliffe, but yet you aren't her. You don't move like her, and you certainly don't have her fine fashion sense. I say you look like a body thief to me."

William's eyes went wide. "No, please, wait! I'm not Grell, I'm her supervisor. A demon switched our bodies."

Undertaker blinked, "Eh?"

"A demon cast a curse on us and switched our bodies. Here, this is my deathscythe. Why would I have this and not her chainsaw if I was a body thief. I don't even know what one of those is…"

"Don't play with me. That could have been stolen from another poor sap."

The scythe remained pressed against his throat, and all William could think about was how he hadn't told anyone where he was going this morning, not even Grell. She knew he had a plan in mind, but she didn't know where. If he died here, he would trap her in his body forever. Gods, and he thought himself a tactician.

Undertaker cocked his head to the side. "Assuming you might be telling the truth, I suppose I should give you a chance. You said you're her supervisor?"

He nodded.

"Tell me something about her, body thief. Something about who she is, what she's done; something I would know about."

William's mind went completely blank. Of course. "You barely know her. What in the world would you know?"

Undertaker snickered, "Be creative. Surely you don't need more motivation."

Grell's glasses slipped down the bridge of William's nose, but he didn't dare to push them up again, not with the scythe so close to his throat. "No, that's alright." He wracked his brain, trying to find anything he could use about Grell that Undertaker would know about. He had mentioned that bit about her being a Butler. "She was a Butler for Madam Red."

"Heh. Is that really all you have?"

He felt the deathscythe push against his throat, and blurted out. "She was also half of Jack the Ripper!"

Undertaker paused. "Go on."

"She worked with Madam Red. The two of them killed prostitutes together, that was how I was able to track her down. I dragged her back myself."

He withdrew his scythe and put a finger to his lips. "Really? I had suspected that she was involved when I realized she was a shinigami on the Campania, but my goodness, she does have a soft spot for humans, doesn't she?" He flicked his hand and his deathscythe was suddenly a satoba again. Will adjusted his glasses with a shaking hand, and Undertaker came closer to him.

"Apologies for trying to slit your gullet there, but you do look like a body thief if ever I saw one… uh, what did you say your name was again?"

He urged his voice not to waver, but had no luck. "William T. Spears."

Undertaker smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. William stiffened. "No hard feelings, I hope, William?"

"No, no, of course not."

"So you say a demon did this to you two?"

"Yes. He said some sort of incantation and…"

"Here, let's go up and I'll make you a cup of tea."

"No, it's alright. I don't want to-"

"Fiddlesticks! It's the least I can do for nearly killing you, Mr. Spears."

William tried to manage a smile, but he was simply too wide-eyed and pale to make it look convincing.


	7. The Evaluation

Grell was sitting up straight, she had combed back her hair, and was doing the very best impersonation of William that she could muster. She couldn't figure out why their manager, Red Dodgson, was giving her such a bizarre expression though. Red was more of a bear than a man, with a rotund belly and a thick beard that covered at least half of his face. When he spoke it was always in a boisterous manner, in which you couldn't tell if he was angry, used to giving orders, or just hard of hearing. So it was odd to see him so quiet with his busy eyebrows furrowed together.

"Have a problem with the razor this morning, William?"

"A little bit," she admitted. She had shaved as thoroughly as she could, though she had gotten a few nicks despite her caution. Doing what she had always seen Eric and Ronald do, she put a few tiny bits of toilet paper on the bleeding spots so she wouldn't be gushing blood anywhere. She was hoping he wouldn't notice, but unfortunately Red was quite observant.

Red sighed, "Take those damn things off, Spears. You look like a bloody schoolboy."

She flinched only a little and did as she was told, tossing the bloody bits into a waste basket nearby.

"Now, I've got your evaluation here, but we'll go over the sections together first as usual."

"Of course," Grell said, pushing her glasses up just like William always did. "That's fine."

Red dragged his chair over and around his desk so that he could sit beside her. "As you know, a Supervisor is evaluated based on the performance of his reapers. Here we have a listing of all their numbers for this year, along with your overall score."

Grell glanced over the page. There was Ronald with the lowest number, he was young yet but he also had a bad habit of partying too late. He had probably been late to one too many reapings, giving him a C overall. Then there was Alan in next at a solid B. He was reliable, but he wasn't as strong in the field. There were several times that Grell could remember him needing to call in assistance when she or Eric could have handled the reaping on their own. Of course he was fairly young too. Then there was Eric with a disappointing A-, though she knew exactly where that came from. He was probably the most unenthusiastic one in the group when it came to reaping, originally pulled from Special Forces as a burn-out. He was still skilled though which is where his A came from, but that attitude always held him back.

"I assume everything looks in order," Red said.

"For the most part, but isn't there a reaper missing?"

"Oh yes, Sutcliffe. Well he's a special case, as you know. I've removed him from your evaluations because he would only pull your score down, which is rather unfair to you in my opinion."

Grell bristled at the pronoun choice, but kept her expression impassive. "Oh?"

He pulled over some additional pages all marked up with charts. "Here we are. Now you see that overall this year Sutcliffe would normally be top of the list, but he's still making up for two years of unapproved leave. If we used his scores to evaluate you, your scores would be in the negative too, just like his, which means you would only get minimum wage like Sutcliffe is."

Despite her attempts to keep her cool, Grell's jaw dropped. She knew that she was down to the lowest amount of pay possible, that she was on probation at this point, but she hadn't realized that it could affect William's paycheck too. She also had suspected that William was the reason she was at such a low pay; that he was still angry at her for leaving, not that her pay was still being affected by her running away. She had assumed that after the High Council had her cleaning businesses for a full six months, that would be the extent of her punishment, but apparently she was wrong.

Red sat back in his chair, "As you see, I just don't think it's fair. Your score would suffer too much if I added that damned Sutcliffe's score in, and I won't have your unblemished record ruined on his bloody account."

"Thank you, sir." Grell said as politely as she could.

"I know I've said it before, Spears, but have you considered a replacement? Sutcliffe is a Shifter, and they're notoriously violent and prone to random whims like this. I don't think it'll be the only blemish on his record, and I can't insulate you from his mistakes forever."

"No, I think it's fine." Grell tried not to clench her teeth as she spoke.

"I mean," he frowned and stroked at his beard. "It's bad enough that we have a Shifter that sees itself as a woman, but add on the Ripper murders and it's just… more of a sacrifice than I think you need. I mean, you do want to move up in Management, don't you, Spears? You don't want to attach yourself to someone who will just drag you down."

Grell was quickly losing her cool. Yes, Will had specifically requested her to be on her best behavior. Yes, she understood how important this was to him; but damn it, she only had so much patience when this walrus of a man was insulting her!

She pushed up her glasses. "I would appreciate it if you wouldn't talk so poorly about Sutcliffe, sir. Despite her sordid background," she ignored Red furrowing his eyebrows. "I think she's an excellent reaper, and an asset to the team. Despite her setbacks, I don't think I could replace her."

"Good Gods, Spears," Red whispered. "You're not sleeping with Sutcliffe, are you?"

Oh no, she thought. That was probably the very last thing that William wanted his boss to know about. Grell scrambled for the right words, any words that could bail her out of the corner she had pushed into. "Certainly not, sir!" She exclaimed. "I just don't appreciate you attacking a reaper with such… skill!"

Red nodded sagely. "My apologies. You know I worry about inter-departmental relationships. They can sometimes be quite dangerous for a man's reputation. Love can be quite the fickle mistress, if you get my meaning." He glanced toward a black and white photo on his desk. It took her a moment to recognize Red at first. He had the same beard but he was far slimmer than he was now. The man beside him too, that face looked very familiar, but she couldn't place it. There was something about the smile and the long, silver hair that looked terribly familiar though. Red slapped him on the back and Grell had to grab hold of the chair arm to keep from being knocked out of her seat. "Just be cautious, Spears. Don't make my mistakes. You have too bright a future to let it be dragged down on behalf of some naive affection."

Grell gave a short nod, "Thank you, sir. I'll remember that." Goodness, it was no wonder William had been so cold to her at first. Red was an absolute hawk about any kind of relationship and William was just anxious enough to accept it without hesitation, the poor dear. Even though William made far more money than her, garnered far more respect at the office than she did, and had far more independence as a Supervisor, in that moment Grell pitied him.


	8. Dawdling at the Dispatch

William's evaluation might have started at nine o'clock, but it lasted far longer than Grell had been prepared for. Then when Red was finished going over charts, graphs, and long tables of data that made very little sense to her, she saw it was nearly noon. Even though the evaluation was finished, Red wasn't done. Grell found herself ushered into two additional meetings before she was finally able to return back to the dispatch, but by then it was nearly three in the afternoon.

She dragged in the front door, expecting William to have been waiting on her, but he was nowhere to be found. She found Ronald in the main office, flirting with one of the poor, young interns who wasn't even out of Academy yet. For once, Grell was actually glad to be in Will's body. She stood taller to give that William patented condescending air.

"Ronald. You must be done with your reaping assignments if you have the free time to be dawdling around here."

Ron's eyes went wide as he spun around, muttered some weak excuse to the exasperated intern, then jogged over. "Sorry, boss. I actually have just one more to do, then I'm finished."

"Oh? So you've completed the necessary research then?"

Ron went a shade paler. "Most of it, sure."

Grell stopped in her tracks. "Most?"

"Yeah, I figured I would get there a few minutes ahead of time, you know, just to make sure, but-"

Grell pushed up William's glasses. The effect on Ronald was immediate. Suddenly he was all apologies, stumbling over his words, and stammering out barely audible excuses. "I promise, I'll go right now." He nearly stumbled over his own too feet in his eagerness to leave.

"Oh, and Ronald?" Grell asked, trying so hard not to burst out laughing at nearly making Ron piss himself with just a few choice moves. "Have you seen Grell around?"

"No, sir. I think she headed out early this morning. She was gone before I got in."

Grell gave a brief nod, a smirk tugging at her lips as Ronald barreled out of the room. Why would her sweet William not be home yet? He didn't say where he was going that morning, only that he had an idea of who could help. Surely he hadn't gotten himself into trouble. Surely William wouldn't make the same mistake twice. She growled in frustration, alarming several of the other interns in the room, but Grell barely noticed.

They needed to break this damn curse. If William was in danger, then she needed to find someone who could use magic, someone who could be trusted to assist them. She went to her room and fetched her red deathscythe with a devious smile. She needed to find Sebastian Darling.


	9. A Subtle Sort of Humor

William stared down at his beaker of tea with growing revulsion. It wasn't that he thought the Legendary Reaper would purposely pour him tea in a jar that might have held bits of corpses, but he did seem mad and without his spectacles he was likely as blind as a bat. He might have compensated for his blindness just fine in battle, but William didn't trust his judgment in the kitchen. He didn't even pull the beaker out of a cupboard, just took it from a shelf - in the coffin showroom, no less!

"Let's see, let's see… spiritual exchanges. That isn't exactly my area of expertise, you know."

"I understand," William put aside his beaker. "I just thought you might know someone who could help."

The Undertaker nodded and munched idly on a stale cookie. "I work more with departed souls, not ones that are alive and kicking. It's a difference between necromancy and possession, you see."

He nodded, not at all understanding what he was getting at.

"Hmm, I may indeed have a contact that could help. He works for a friend of mine, but I don't know much about him. I do hear he does interesting things with souls however. Druitt plans to resurrect the Aurora Society with him, take it in a new direction supposedly." He gave a slow grin. "You promise not to pass judgment on anyone, I hope? These dealings are all highly illegal, both in the human world and in our own. You need assistance, but I shan't give you any names without some reassurance that you'll keep your personal opinions out of this."

William gave a heavy sigh. If Grell had been sitting there instead of him, she would of course have agreed. William though was more of a stickler for the rules. The very thought that such a dangerous soul manipulator was living in his city without his knowledge put him on edge. Knowing that he would have to trust this person with his and Grell's souls made him even more concerned.

"How do I know this person is trustworthy?"

"You don't," Undertaker stated simply. "But it's the only help I can give, and I'm sure you're eager to crawl back into your own skin. Or perhaps you want some time to think about it?"

"No," William rubbed at his temple, no, at Grell's temple. "I don't have time to think about it."

"Are you worried that Sutcliffe will object?"

"No, she would probably leap into the fray and toss caution to the wind."

"I can at least assure you that you won't be alone."

William's eyes went wide. "You'll be… you'll be there with me?"

"Of course. I wouldn't want you to deal with some soul manipulator on your own. Especially not in your current state. No offense, but I doubt Sutcliffe has trained much with your deathscythe, has she?"

"No, of course not. It's _my_ deathscythe."

"Exactly." Undertaker downed his own beaker and put it in a nearby bucket. "I'll need to pen a letter first. It's in poor taste to visit the Viscount without some announcement. He's a very busy man after all." He gave a creepy snicker and headed off to a side desk that William had assumed was just another coffin.

"The Viscount of Druitt? Do you think he's behind this?"

"Ehhh, I doubt it. He's an appreciator of good humor like I am, but he values life far less than I do. I could see him ignoring the warning signs in favor of good humor," he gave a low chuckle. "There's a part of me that envies that of him, to be honest. Sometimes I wish I didn't care so much. It would make my work much easier."

"To be frank, I don't believe you," William stated.

Undertaker stared up at him through scruffy bangs. "Eh?"

"I don't believe you actually care, not about the humans you corrupt at any rate."

For a moment Undertaker was silent and William wondered if he'd been too forward. Then the old reaper's shoulders shook with laughter, "My but you do have a mouth on you, don't you? Even after having my scythe aimed at you." His chuckle turned into a toothy grin. "Perhaps you've got more humor in you than I thought. It's a subtle sort of humor, but it is in there, isn't it?"

William blinked. He was being mocked. "It wasn't a joke, I truly-"

But Undertaker cut him off, "Before you go stuffing your boot in your mouth, remember that you came to me for help. I know you may not like it, being the supervisor type that you are, but I could just as easily leave you to deal with this on your own."

"Hm." He made a good point. William didn't have anywhere else to go, other than that Michaelis at least, and he had no intention of stooping that low. "Fair enough. I may not approve of your methods, but I do appreciate the assistance."

Undertaker smirked. "I dare say if you were in anyone else's body, I would probably deny you straight out especially with your sour attitude. But your Grell is rather lovely, and I do have a hard time turning away a pretty face."

William rolled his eyes. Good grief, did Grell have to deal with this much abuse?


	10. To Please a Phantomhive

Sebastian blinked in confusion as he pulled open the front door of Phantomhive Manor. "Mr. Spears?" Of course the shock melted almost as quickly as it had appeared. "Goodness, but this is a surprise." In Grell's defense, it was the charming smile he gave that did her in. She was doing so well up to that point, and he was just so very lovely. She rushed forward and pulled him into a tight if awkward embrace; if Sebastian's eyes went any wider they might have popped out of his skull.

"Oh, Sebastian Darling! It is so good to see you again."

"Er, Mister Spears?" He stammered, trying so hard to keep his butler persona in check. She had to admire his determination to stay in character.

She finally released him and gave him space to breathe. "It's Grell. I know I don't look it, but it really is me, darling." She summoned forth her deathscythe in a flash that made the poor demon go a shade paler.

"Indeed. Well then, I'm sure this is an entertaining tale."

Sebastian took her jacket and walked her into the parlor where Ciel was reading over the latest paper with a cup of tea at his side. If it was up to Sebastian alone, getting assistance would be easy; but Ciel was going to be quite the obstacle. She spent the next ten minutes catching the Earl up to speed on their situation while Sebastian fetched them tea and cakes. She did fudge a few of the details on Will's mishap with the demon. She didn't want to show him in a poor light, even if his fighting prowess wasn't nearly as good as her own. He wouldn't care about Ciel knowing about it, but he would be mortified to hear that Sebastian had found out.

"So let me get this straight," Ciel said after taking a sip of his tea. "A demon was able to switch your body with Spears'?"

"Yes, I know it sounds crazy, but it's true! Now we have this curse on us and we can't get free of it." She batted her eyes in Sebastian's direction, "I was hoping Sebastian Darling would be able to help us." She was hoping her flirting would win him over, but doing it in William's body only made the demon arch his eyebrows.

"Sebastian, could a demon do such a thing to shinigami?" He gave a wry smile, "I was under the assumption that they were a bit more hardy than that."

"Hmm, it is possible. There are some Djinn that are known to have that power. However, if the perpetrator could shift souls between bodies, I don't see why he or she wouldn't just devour them instead of changing bodies. It seems a rather childish thing to do."

Grell rolled her eyes. "Eat our souls? Any demon would be in for a bad surprise if they tried to drink a shinigami's soul. Our energy is simply too powerful for your kind to digest."

Sebastian sneered at him. The expression looked terribly unflattering on him; she didn't even know that was possible. "I have a hard time believing that there is any soul that my kind can't digest, as you so crudely put it."

"Oh Darling, as adorable as you are when your ego peeks out, you really should keep it under wraps more."

"That's enough of that," Ciel said with a side-long glare at Sebastian. "If we do decide to assist you, I have a request to make in return."

"Oh?" That took her off guard. She had been expecting some kind of payment to be needed, but she hadn't expected Ciel to already have something in mind. That was never a good sign.

"There have been a series of murders across London in the past few weeks. There seems to be no pattern to them, and the newly formed Scotland Yard believes it to be a serial killer. However her Majesty thinks otherwise and has asked me to investigate." He nodded to Grell, "Your kind have access to records of such things, do you not? You could determine who killed these people without us having to track down the killer ourselves."

Grell sighed and folded her arms. "You want me to use our records to track down some killer? That's entirely against the rules though, Ciel. I'm only Second in Command and I know that."

Ciel flashed a wide smile. "In Spear's body, you do seem to be in the proper position to assist, don't you think? Help us track down this killer and Sebastian and I will do what we can to get you and Spears back into your proper forms."

She ran a hand through her hair, thoroughly ruining William's typical, perfect look. She was used to her own tousled hair, not William's short, perfectly shaped locks. It was no wonder he didn't like it when she put her fingers through it when she visited him in his office on those late nights. Oh, how she missed curling up with him and feeling his strong hands clasping hold of her. She clutched at her sides, disturbingly aware of just how out of place she felt in his body. "Alright, I'll help. But you better promise me that you'll find a way to get us back in our bodies after this is all done!"

"Understood." Ciel said. "Sebastian, fetch Sutcliffe the list."

Sebastian pulled it out of his inner jacket pocket as though he had planned all day for his young Master to call upon it. She did appreciate the little sleight-of-hand details that Sebastian used; most humans would never suspect he just created it. He passed her the list and Grell pushed up her glasses as she read over them.

"These names look awfully familiar…" She pulled out the scroll of names that Will had in his breast pocket and compared them. "They look exactly the same!"

"Sebastian? Double check them."

He stepped forward with his dashingly handsome smile. Grell happily handed them over, appreciating the cute way Sebastian's hair hung in his face as he put them down on a side table to compare them.

"They are identical, young Master."

"Oh dear, that won't do any good." Grell sighed, "Those are all the souls that have gone missing. That's what got us in this mess to begin with. Will's been trying to find out who is responsible."

Ciel took another sip of his tea, staring out the window at the garden for a moment. "Do you have any other records on the disappearances?"

"I might. I'd have to check Will's office."

"And how long will that take?"

"Oh, just a moment, let me check." She turned and cut through the air with her deathscythe, revealing William's pristine office on the other side. She peeled back the edges of this reality back like the peel of a banana, and stepped through. William's office was quite organized, like he always kept it. She started riffling through the folders in an organizer on his desk.

"What- what did you do?" The panic in Ciel's voice made her look up.

Both Ciel and Sebastian staring through the portal at her with wide, fearful eyes. She gave a nervous laugh, "Oh, sorry, Ceil. I just cut a portal back up here. I thought that would be the quickest way to do it. I always forget that humans and demons freak out about such things." She held a green file folder into the air. "Found it!"

She stepped through the hole again, hiding her amusement as Sebastian physically dragged his young master back two or three steps. He wasn't taking any chances. She cut her deathscythe in a backwards pattern and the rip in space disappeared as though it had never existed.

"Here you are. A map of all the disappearances. And here are the details on what we knew about the victims."

Sebastian took the files but stared down at Ciel with concern. "Are you alright, young master?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." He said despite the fact that his fingers were trembling at his sides. "Just examine the information, will you?" He sat back down at his chair, taking deep breaths to steady his nerves.

Sebastian too seemed anxious, though Grell had assumed that a demon of his skill would have seen a trick like that before. If he was as anxious about it as Ciel though, he was good at hiding it. Sebastian studied the map for a moment. "Ah, there is a pattern, young master."

"There is?" Grell asked.

"Excellent," Ciel said urging him on. "Let's hear it."

Sebastian laid the map down on the desk nearest Ciel, so that Grell had to huddle close to see it. "The dots are the locations of their bodies, it seems. There are thirteen in total."

"That's an ominous number," Ciel muttered.

"Indeed, likely used to instill fear. It's a rather dull, overused number though, and certainly not used by most self-respecting demons. It seems like a rather childish act." He put his finger down in the center of all the disappearances. "This place is equidistant from all locations. If connected, these places would make a thirteen point star with this building at its center."

"Where is that?" Ciel asked.

"I believe that is the manor of the Viscount of Druitt."


	11. Dealing with Druitt

William clutched the edge of his seat as the hearse's wheels dipped into a deep rut in the road. Despite the smell of the horses, the constant rain, and the mud that occasionally splashed up on his pant legs, William was actually enjoying himself. It wasn't every day that a shinigami got to travel by hearse alongside the Legendary Reaper. Hearses were rather revered in the shinigami world. They were places that their kind rarely got to see up close, one of the few parts of the human world that was rather inaccessible to them since so few people died there. Undertaker's hearse was especially elaborate with black curtains along its sides and its six equally dark horses at its lead. People looked up at the vehicle with a strange mixture of respect and fear in their eyes; women prevented children from crossing in front of it, and men would tip their hat to the old Undertaker in his seat. That recognition, that reverence was a complete power trip. It was no wonder the old reaper had chosen this as his profession.

Soon they were outside of the city limits, away from the soot that hung in the air and the muddy streets. The air here felt cleaner despite the constant rain that fell. A few moments later, Undertaker shifted the reigns and the horses turned up a path, the muddy road turned to cobblestone and in the distance he could make out a stately manor atop a hill.

"Is that where the Viscount lives?" he asked.

"Aye, but first you need some fixing." He pulled the carriage to a complete stop.

William narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean?"

"Fixing." He said, pointing down to the deathscythe William still clutched in his hand. "You can't go inside carrying that."

He grit his teeth, "And why on earth not?"

"This is a manor house, Spears. You can't just go inside carrying a weapon like that. It isn't proper!"

"I hope you're not suggesting I leave it here!" He pulled it aside and away from Undertaker's reach. "I've never left it out of sight when I'm in the human world. Even at the circus I-"

"This isn't some bloody circus, Spears! This is the manor of a very wealthy man with a long list of enemies." Undertaker sighed and sat back against his seat, crossing his legs. "Look, I'm not asking you to leave it here or get rid of it. I'm just saying that it can't look like it does."

"What do you mean?"

Undertaker smiled in a way that sent a shudder down William's spine. "I mean I can transfigure it for you," he held up a satoba and in an instant it had turned into his deathscythe. "Like I do mine." He shifted it back again and William sat for a moment blinking. Part of him thought he must have imagined it. He had seen it in photographs countless times; hell, he had a photo of the Legendary Reaper and his famed scythe up in his locker in Academy. To see it suddenly flash into reality before his eyes and then disappear into a plain old satoba again was like glimpsing the Golden Fleece. It was almost too much to be real.

It took a moment for William to find his voice again. "You mean, use magic on it."

"Eh, I don't like to call it magic, but I suppose that works. If I don't transfigure it, then it's got to stay here in the hearse. I don't want the Viscount to turn us away because of it, but I understand the need to not leave it behind either. We certainly don't want any human to get hold of it."

William sighed and looked down at his deathscythe. It was bad enough that he wasn't in his own body, now he had to give up his only source of protection as well. "What if I need it?"

"Then I can transfigure it back for you. It isn't difficult."

"But I'm relying on you. What if there's a battle? How can I be certain I'll get it back in time?"

The Undertaker gave a long sigh. "I'm not trying to offend you, dearie."

Will frowned at the condescending pet word.

"But I don't think you've got much of a choice in the matter. If you refuse, then I'll turn us right back where we came from. The Viscount is a good friend of mine, and I won't let you ruin that. You on the other hand…"

"Fine." Will handed his deathscythe over, but couldn't watch as Undertaker transformed it. He didn't think he could. To be honest, he felt far too close to crying right now than he was comfortable with. A supervisor simply did not cry. He was surprised when he felt the varnished wood pushed into his hands, and looked down to see that his deathscythe had been turned into a fine walking cane. For some reason knowing that he would still be able to hold it, knowing that he could at least have it with him, took away some of the pain.

"How does that suit you?" Undertaker asked.

"It's fine," William said, adjusting his spectacles. "This suits me just fine. Thank you."

Undertaker smiled and urged the horses forward again. "You'll still have it at least, and it does still have all the properties of a deathscythe after all."

William clenched his fingers around the mahogany wood and nodded. They reached the entrance to the manor and the servants took care of the hearse while William and Undertaker were led inside to the parlor. Crimson velvet draperies fell to the gleaming hard wood floors. Plush pillows decorated every cushioned seat, and William couldn't help but scrunch his nose. The decadence was outlandish, especially after riding past the paltry living conditions which plagued most of London. On top of that, the decor seemed more fitting for a brothel rather than a mansion.

To William's surprise, they were both searched for any weapons. His knowledge of human customs wasn't as spot on as Grell's, but he was fairly certain this would be considered rude even in the human world. A young man with strong arms and a sallow gaze reached for William's cane, but he swept it aside quickly before the lad could grasp it. William was about to take a swipe at him, but Undertaker stepped quickly between them.

"Come now, Mister Casey, you wouldn't begrudge him his cane, would you? What kind of hospitality is that to show a friend of mine?"

The sallow eyed man stood gaping at William's speed and at the same time had Undertaker hovering over him creepily, so he gave a short nod. "I guess it's fine," he stammered.

"Excellent! Now if you would fetch the Viscount for me. He and I have some urgent matters to discuss, and I'm afraid I haven't the time to dally." The young man clenched his jaw but gave a curt nod before heading out the doors.

William signed, but couldn't bring himself to sit down in the plush chairs. Undertaker paced. He considered asking him why they were coming to see Druitt of all people, but knowing the old reaper's track record, he doubted he would get a sliver of truth out of him. Then the parlor doors slammed open and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"My dear old friend!" Druitt exclaimed, his arms outstretched as though he planned to pull the Undertaker into an embrace. "What a pleasant surprise! What brings you to my humble home?"

"Very good to see you, m'lord. I hate to intrude with such short notice, but it's a bit of an urgent matter."

"Oh?" A wicked grin spread across his lips as he clasped his hands behind his back. "You do always have such interesting emergencies. Thank you again for your help at Weston, by the way. You did a fantastic job of keeping the place _clean_, so to speak."

"Hehe! Cleanliness is godliness, as they say. First though, let me introduce my friend, Mr. Sutcliffe."

Druitt flashed him a toothy smile, and William suddenly realized he hadn't the slightest idea how he was supposed to greet a Viscount. He made a quick glance to Undertaker, but with his eyes veiled with that layer of hair, all he did was grin expectantly at him. William gave a low nod.

"Very good to meet you," William mumbled.

Druitt arched his slim eyebrows and gave a bit of a dignified huff. "Ah, are you a foreigner by chance? You do look rather familiar…"

William blinked again, not sure how to respond. Luckily he was saved when Undertaker stepped between them, flapping a hand like a dying fish.

"Oh, don't mind him," Undertaker put an arm around the Viscount's shoulders. "He can be a wee bit slow at times is all."

A deep flush ran up William's cheeks. Had he just made some sort of social misstep? He must have if Undertaker felt he needed to rescue him. He took a deep breath and gripped his cane as he followed them to the opposite side of the room where some brandy had been put out.

"He's the one with the problem you see," Undertaker made a conspiratorial glance around the room, which seemed rather ridiculous to William. Surely he knew that the three of them were already alone. The Viscount though seemed to drink in the potential danger like a drug. Undertaker put a hand up to shield his mouth as he whispered, "It's a matter of souls."

"Souls?" Druitt whispered.

"Aye, and it was my understanding that you might have something of an expert on the matter working in your service."

Druitt gave a knowing smile. "I hadn't let on to many about my new employee, you know. Nor had I told anyone about his expertise." He took a long drink from his brandy glass, his keen eyes fixed on Undertaker.

"Come now, m'lord, I won't expose all my secrets."

"No, but you can't possibly expect me to offer him up to you for free."

"Ahh, now we get to the heart of it then." Undertaker put a hand to his chin and he paced closer to William, a thin smile on his lips. "I suppose I'll be blunt about it then. That work at the Academy, I suppose that didn't amount to anything for you?"

"On the contrary, your services were most helpful." Druitt sipped on his second glass. "I merely thought you were already compensated. You did mention you were looking for more subjects for your work."

It took a moment for William to realize they were talking about undead students, and despite the fact that he was in Grell's body and knew that he needed to keep up an impartial guise, a deep frown tugged at his lips. He didn't like the idea of such atrocities being used as payment for his troubles. The thought of more undead being created because of this strange body switch bothered him even more. Undertaker must have seen his reaction because suddenly he changed tactics.

"M'lord, I hate to bring this up considering how fond you seem to be for your new employer, but I've a ghastly admission to make." Druitt was pouring himself another glass and didn't even look up at his words. "I do believe he might be responsible for this little mishap."

"What?" William gasped, worried by Undertaker's grin.

"Oh? So it's an accusation then."

"I'm afraid so," Undertaker shrugged. "If you would call him in, I'll explain everything."

Druitt sighed, "Only if you promise to actually explain it instead of this little dance you insist on."

William was barely paying attention to him though. Was Undertaker bluffing, or did he really think this specialist in souls was truly responsible? If that was the case, that meant that Druitt had a demon on hand, a powerful one. Perhaps Undertaker was more mad than he thought.

"Casey, fetch Remley for me, won't you?" The parlor doors opened a crack and the sallow eyed man popped his head in. "Let him know that terrible accusations have been made against him and he needs to defend himself this very instant."

Casey gave a quick nod and disappeared. Undertaker stood there with a pleased smile on his lips. Perhaps this was his intent all along, to hand William over to the demon and be done with him. That would give him one less supervisor to deal with in London. When the parlor doors cracked open again, William recognized the red eyes that stared back at him.


	12. A Trio of Trespassers

The sky was just beginning to darken by the time they reached Druitt's manor. Between Sebastian and Grell's speed, it had taken little time to go from the Earl's manor to the Viscount's lavish home.

Sebastian leapt over the fence with ease and Grell followed. As they crept through the trees, Ciel gasped. "That's the Undertaker's hearse."

Sebastian crouched low, "Do you think he's somehow involved?"

"It isn't the first time he's worked with Druitt, though he's never targeted Shinigami before."

"He certainly targeted us on that ship," Grell growled.

Ciel pursed his lips. "I was under the impression that was an unexpected encounter."

"Yes, but he certainly slashed up Ronald and I nicely," Grell pointed to her abdomen, only to remember that she was in William's body. He wouldn't have any scars. She looked up at the main entrance, "We need to get inside. Let me go see if I can find a window or something."

"No need," Sebastian smirked. "I see one already." He glanced to Grell, "Shinigami eyesight perhaps isn't keen enough to spot it."

She rolled her eyes and bit her lip to keep from snapping at him. Such a demon, always eager to show off, even if he did know she could dispatch him in an instant. One thing she could credit this weird possession, being in William's body gave her a bit more motivation to not lose her temper quite as much. She gave a cold smile, "Lead the way."

Sebastian arched an eyebrow, but knew better than to push her. In a few quick leaps, they were latched onto the side of the manor house, their fingers digging into the decorative molding. "If you would, young master," he nodded to the window that was just within Ciel's reach. He pushed the window open, wincing as the wood squeaked, then crawled inside. For an Earl he could be quite limber when he wanted to be.

"You're telling me you could tell this window was unlocked?" Grell asked.

Sebastian nodded as he held a hand out to help her through the window. "Indeed. I could also hear the air seep into the open crack."

Grell took his hand with a smile. It was difficult to keep her mind on her work when Sebastian was such a gentleman all the time. They had entered into one of the guest bedrooms and the silence of the building was eerie. There was something else though too, not a sound but a sort of energy that Grell could feel, as though the walls were vibrating with a low hum.

"What is it?" Ciel asked, his eyes wide in the darkened room. "Is there something here?"

"No, not in this room at least, but…" Sebastian trailed off.

"It's the demon we fought before," Grell gripped her deathscythe and tried to ignore the shiver that went through her.

Sebastian frowned, "I'm not sure that it is a demon, to be honest. The energy is different, not one that I recognize."

Ciel sighed, "If it isn't a demon, and it isn't a Shinigami, then what exactly is it?"

"I'm not sure," he glanced down to his young master. Grell wasn't sure if it was mischief or concern in his eyes, "Are you certain you still wish to pursue it?"

Ciel lifted his chin, "Take us to it already, and stop asking ridiculous questions."

"Very well, but do stay close."

Ciel nodded, though Grell thought he might be trembling underneath the wool overcoat.

Out in the hallway, the ceiling was decorated with grand chandeliers and colorful tapestries depicting a variety of gratuitous scenes, from bloody hunts, to beautiful maidens, to beautiful men, to festivals filled with wine and orgies. It was certainly one of the more unusual buildings that Grell had seen, but seeing them all crushed together on a single hallway wall somehow made sense for someone as debaucherous as Druitt.

It sounded as though most of the activity was downstairs. The three of them crouched down near the top of the grand staircase and watched as a servant passed by on the lower floor. He a young man with a sallow gaze, but he was followed by another man wrapped head to toe in a black robe. Grell watched them pass into the parlour, then the young man exited and headed down another hall.

"Is that the nefarious creature that attacked you, Sutcliffe?" Ciel whispered.

"That was him," she growled.

"Then we had best hurry," Sebastian said. "I believe I sense your body beyond that door, Grell."

That was all Grell needed to hear.


	13. A Threat to this Sector

"Remley, the Undertaker and his friend here have claimed you've been up to some mischief." Druitt smiled as he swirled his class of bourbon and glanced over to Casey. "Leave us if you would, Casey. Give us a bit of privacy if you don't mind."

Casey glanced nervously to the black clad man beside him and left quickly with barely a nod. William couldn't blame him. Remley's demonic aura seemed to make the entire room darken. When he had seen him before crouching in the rafters, William had thought he was just standing in the shadows; now though he realized that the creature created its own shadows. Only certain demons did that, didn't they? The more they fed the more the shadows clung to them? Damn it, he couldn't remember. He hadn't read anything on demonology for almost a century; it had always been more Grell's area of expertise. She was the one fascinated with demons, William hated even having to deal with them. Remley's red eyes seemed to bore into him and William was glad now that Undertaker had turned his deathscythe into a cane. At least he could lean upon it.

Undertaker tossed his bangs aside and whistled, "Aren't you an ugly fellow."

Remley narrowed his eyes but Druitt chuckled. "Come now, there's no need to be insulting, Undertaker. I want to hear these accusations you have to make against my servant." He leaned drunkenly against the side table, and the crystal glasses for the bourbon clinked together.

"What in the world did Druitt promise you to come work for him?" Undertaker asked, fingering a satoba beneath his cloak. "I mean, you've obviously been feeding well."

"As many souls as I desire," Remley's voice sounded like gravel under a boot and it echoed throughout the darkened parlour.

"So you're the reason that souls have gone missing then," Williams said, his voice not nearly as stoic as he would have liked.

"Druitt, why do you do this to yourself? Remley here isn't some pet you can take in, you know."

Druitt shrugged, "I don't see what the problem is. I have enemies, as you know. He offered his services, and I accepted them; anyway, I don't see how you have room to complain."

Undertaker shook his head. "I worked with corpses, m'lord."

"Yes! And he takes care of my enemies! What in the world is the problem? Don't tell me you've started to grow a conscience now, Undertaker."

The old reaper stiffened at that but chuckled.

William adjusted his glasses, "Killing humans, devouring souls, and also… transferring souls. I believe you're certainly a threat to this sector." He held his cane out to Undertaker. "If you would."

Undertaker hesitated and his smile fell. "Come now, has it really come to that? I'm sure we can figure out some sort of arrangement."

William gaped at him. "You can't honestly approve of this behavior! Do I need to remind you what he did to us?"

"Yes, well…"

Then everything seemed to change. The parlour doors slammed open and the roar of Grell's chainsaw seemed to drown out all other noise.

"Sutcliffe, wait!" Ciel Phantomhive called out, rushing into the room with Sebastian Michaelis at his side.

Remley's red eyes were wide as they darted around the room, then he began chanting again even as Grell's chainsaw was coming straight toward his skull.

"Oh crap…" Undertaker muttered, and William realized too late what was happening. The world began to spin and darkness enveloped the entire room as he fell unconscious to the floor.


	14. A Djinn's Offer

Ciel was certain the creature was saying something, but Sebastian clamped his hands securely over his young master's ears, somehow drowning out all noise.

"Sebastian, what are you-"

"Keeping you in place," he whispered as he crouched down at his side. Ciel didn't question how the only thing he could hear was Sebastian's voice. When you had a demon in your employment, you stopped asking such questions.

The entire room was dark and Ciel watched as Grell's vicious charge faltered as William's legs went weak beneath her, and she tumbled hard to the ground. Another shinigami fell too, but Ciel didn't immediately recognize him. His red hair was pulled up high on his head and he wore a simple, black suit. He blinked in astonishment when he realized it was Sutcliffe's body, probably with Spears trapped inside. Then he spotted Undertaker leaning heavily against his satoba. There was something terrible about seeing him struggling to stay standing. His green eyes glanced over to Ciel, and there was no doubt about the concern in his eyes. Then he spotted Sebastian, his hands clamped over Ciel's ears, and he smiled before falling to the floor.

The chant must have ended because the room lightened considerably, and the creature stood leaning with a hand on the wall. The room was littered with bodies, three shinigami and Druitt. Sebastian released Ciel and got to his feet. "You've switched all of them again, haven't you? Even your own human master."

"He's not my master," the creature hissed and Ciel felt a headache form between his eyebrows. "He's my employer."

"It's Remley, isn't it?" Sebastian asked, stepping cautiously forward. "I dare say that I haven't seen a Djinn in London before. How odd for you to travel so far from your homeland."

Ciel set his jaw and stepped forward. "Enough with the pleasantries. Will you switch them back willingly or must we force you to do it?"

Near the stand of brandy, Druitt was beginning to stir, but Ciel wasn't sure who was truly in his body now.

"Why should I?" Remley asked and Ciel felt that same throbbing in his skull. Instead of responding to Ciel though, he was addressing Sebastian. The Djinn obviously hadn't a scrap of manners, which wasn't entirely surprising considering his employer. "Do you know what they do to our kind? We should destroy them now, while they sleep. With their blades, we could become stronger than Death itself!"

Sebastian chuckled, "And bring the entire realm of death down on our heads? That sounds like a brilliant plan."

Ciel looked over to see Druitt staring at his hands with a dramatic sneer on his lips. "Really? I have to be this fop?" he muttered and gave a foul look as he looked down at his outfit. "He's not even hot!"

Undertaker got slowly to his feet, and had to put his hands up to his nose to see them. Then his face flushed a bright red and he tried to adjust his nonexistent glasses. "Good grief…"

"Oh my," Grell said as she got to her feet, using the cane that had been left at her side. "I say, Remley! You aren't supposed to be dragging me into this mess, though," he flattened his hands down his hips then rubbed his hands against his own backside. "Perhaps this isn't quite so bad."

A disturbing noise emerged near Ciel. He looked down to see William had rolled over onto his side, clutching his belly with laughter.

Ciel sighed and stamped his cane on the ground, bringing the bickering to silence. His patience was waning, and the throbbing in his skull didn't help. "Sebastian, I grow tired of this. If we should kill him, will it revert the shinigami back to their original forms?"

Sebastian smirked, "I haven't a clue."

"Well that seems reasonable enough to me. Dispatch him, won't you? I've had enough of this."

"Very well, my lord," he said with a low bow. There was a scream, but it was cut short. A curtain of blood splashed against the wall, and Sebastian stood on the opposite side of the room with Remley's head in his hands. All at once, Druitt and the shinigami fell to the floor again. It was eerie how quickly the light vanished from their eyes and they were nothing more than crumpled ragdolls again.

Ciel turned to Sebastian. "You mean to tell me you could have taken him out in an instant?"

"Oh no, young master. I doubt I could have if he hadn't wasted his energies on the shinigami. Really if he had worked harder to convince you instead of me, he might have lived." He dropped Remley's head to the floor and Ciel turned away so he didn't have to see the wide eyes and the mouth still twitching.

"What should we do with them?" He asked, wanting to think of anything but the corpse behind him.

"You did promise Grell to make sure she and William had their bodies back. What will you do if they aren't returned to their proper forms?"

Ciel sighed and looked down at William near his cane, Grell with her deathscythe discarded on the floor, and Undertaker with his satoba. "Perhaps we should at least remove their weapons. Just in case…"

Sebastian nodded and gathered them with a gleam in his eye. "In case Druitt decides to try them out."

"No," Ciel stated. "In case they aren't in their right bodies. They would kill us in an instant."

Sebastian went a tad bit paler.


	15. Stolen Deathscythes

When William opened his eyes again, he was shocked to actually be able to see. He thought he would still be in Undertaker's body, but based on the fact that he didn't have the reaper's silver bangs in his eyes, that couldn't be the case. Tentatively he dragged a tongue across his teeth, but they weren't sharp at all. They felt like his teeth, with imperfections and all. With a relieved sigh he closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself to relax into the cushions.

Wait, where was he exactly?

"Ah," Michaelis was suddenly hovering over him with an impish grin. "It seems one of them is awake, young master."

With a glare, William reached for his deathscythe, intent to push the demon as far away as possible. His hand groped at empty air. He looked down to his side with a feeble expression. "What?"

"My apologies, Spears," Phantomhive said from an armchair near the hearth. "I'm afraid we had to collect your deathscythes."

William pushed himself up into a seating position, prompting Sebastian to back away. "That is completely uncalled for," he pushed up his glasses. Your kind are never permitted to handle our-"

Phantomhive didn't even flinch. "I couldn't chance someone as unstable and unpredictable as Druitt to come across them again."

"Good grief. As though you're any more reliable than he is. You're the one with a demon. At least Druitt doesn't stoop to that level of abhorrence."

Michaelis chuckled, but the Earl sighed. "Retrieve his deathscythe for him, Sebastian."

"Are you sure that is wise, young master?" Despite the question, there was no fear in the demon's voice, only mockery. "How can we be certain he won't use it against us?"

William sighed and looked around the room to see Grell just coming to. "Grell," he whispered, forgetting completely about Phantomhive and his pet demon, and went to her side. "Are you alright?"

"Will-?" She rubbed at her temples, "What a ride…"

He managed a small smile and took her hand. "It is you, isn't it?"

She nodded with a sharp-toothed smile. "It does feel good to be back again."

Behind them, Phantomhive grew impatient. "I suppose you won't be wanting your deathscythes back again then?" As good of a strategist as he could be, he could be such a spoiled brat sometimes.

"Are you planning to hold them hostage then?" Undertaker asked as he got to his feet. The entire room seemed to go tense at his words, and it reminded William again of being down in his shop surrounded by darkness and with the long blade of a deathscythe pressed to his throat. "That might not be very wise. I mean, William here is a supervisor. You'll have the entire shinigami world down on you if word gets out that you've stolen deathscythes. Goodness, it's one thing to raise an army of undead," he chuckled. "But it's quite another to steal a reaper's deathscythe!"

Phantomhive and Michaelis exchanged a nervous glance at Undertaker's words. It was a bit of an exaggeration since he and Grell would be in terrible trouble for losing them. They would likely both get demoted to interns for such an act. However there was a shred of truth to it too. Phantomhive and his pet would both be considered dangerous and orders would be given to kill them on sight. Grell gave him a small knowing smile, but William kept his expression neutral. It was a crude ruse, but he would play along.

He got to his feet and turned to Phantomhive with a stern expression. "Will you hand them over willingly then or do I need to contact higher authorities?"

The young Earl studied him for a moment before giving Michaelis a short nod. The demon handed all three of the blades, Grell's chainsaw, Undertaker's satoba, and of course his cane. William glanced to Undertaker who hid his scythe under his robes with a disturbing grin.

"You wanting me to fix it again for you, dearie?"

William had to refrain from flinching. "Please."

The old reaper took the cane in his hands, then spun it once in a strange comedy impersonation. "You sure you want it back to the way it was? The cane is rather distinguished."

William twitched and clenched his fists. He couldn't say anything though because he needed his deathscythe transfigured back.

"Alright, you're no fun, Mr. Spears." Suddenly the cane was his pruner again, and William breathed a sigh of relief as it was handed back.

"Thank you."

"What ever happened to the other demon?" Grell asked as she unsummoned her chainsaw.

"Remley?" Michaelis asked, "Ah, he was dispatched rather quickly."

"Yes, Sebastian removed his head," Phantomhive stated.

"Yes indeed," the demon chuckled. "Once he had wasted his energy on moving your souls around, it was quite simple to remove him. I dare say he tried to kill my young master too."

"Indeed," Phantomhive said. "That was his second mistake. His first was trying to move shinigami souls."

"No," William added as he adjusted his glasses. "His first was thinking he could devour souls in London without being punished for it. As for his employer," he turned to Druitt who was spread out on a white chaise like some painting. "I ought to examine his cinematic record to see where he employed such vermin."

"Come now," Undertaker was suddenly at his side. "He may have poor taste in employees, but I don't think he really knew what Remley was up to."

William gave him a long-suffering expression. "How in the world can you vouch for him? He was trying to displace your soul as well."

"Yes, but it was damn funny! Did you see the way he was groping at Grell's rear?" He degenerated into giggles and Grell flushed. "I don't care if it was dangerous or not, it was damn funny, and I don't want you killing him or tearing up his soul. I think a human's life is a small price to ask for helping you find him, you know."

William was at a loss for words. Undertaker was a deserter. He had broken countless laws and would likely face harsh charges once he was brought in, or rather once he was willing to be brought in. Yet instead of asking for amnesty for his own crimes, he would instead ask for a human to be left alone. It made absolutely no sense.

Phantomhive was on his feet. "Come with us, Undertaker. All I want is some explanation."

"Ah, for the Campania then?" Undertaker gave the Earl a sidelong expression. "I'm afraid I can't do such a thing."

That was apparently not the response the Earl had wanted. He stepped forward with clenched fists. "And why not? I need answers."

Undertaker turned back to William. "Promise me you'll do no harm to him for this. He does give me a good laugh now and again. It's just a bit of harmless fun."

According to shinigami law, Remley was at fault for his actions not his ridiculous human employer. "I suppose," William said. "There is no rule against it at least."

Undertaker gave a wide smile. "Excellent. Well then, I suppose I'll be off." He gave a low bow, then had vanished in an instant.

"I could go to his carriage, young master." The demon added, "He'll likely return there at some point to retrieve it."

The young Earl was angry, but resigned. "No need. I still have his trinkets. He'll have to come back at some point."

"Come, Grell." Will adjusted his glasses, "We need to be getting back."

"Oh, already?"

"Yes. Say your goodbyes."

Grell sighed and then threw her arms around Michaelis' shoulders in an awkward embrace. The demon looked highly uncomfortable with it and gave William a concerned expression. "Oh Sebastian Darling, I'm going to miss you. But don't you worry your pretty head," she said as she pulled back and put a gloved hand to his cheek. "I'll see if I can't make it to your next killing."

"How thoughtful," the demon said as smoothly as he could. "I look forward to it."

"Don't encourage her, Sebastian." Phantomhive added. "She's incorrigible."

"Phantomhive, I do have a question for you." William asked, "What would you have done had we not returned to our bodies? I assume that was the real reason you took our deathscythes away, to save your own skins."

The boy gave a cold, distant smile. "Begged your forgiveness, of course. Though what other choice did we have? Remley's method was crude, but it was effective at keeping you lot at a distance. In the end, it was his fear of death and your kind that led to his demise."


	16. To Be Yourself

The dispatch was quiet as William leaned over to turn out the light, then turn over to wrap Grell in his embrace. It felt good how well she fit against him, curled up against his torso, an arm wrapped around her waist. She was warm and smelled of cinnamon, the body spray she insisted on putting on after she got out of the shower. He leaned his head against her red mane and smiled in the darkness.

"You know, I was grossly unprepared to be you," he admitted.

Her body shook as she chuckled. "Was it that bad?"

"It wasn't bad, I just didn't feel like I did you justice. You were hugging that demon earlier, and I realized how out of place you looked in such a manly outfit. It reminded me of how you were back in Academy."

"I was… a very different person in those days, Will. I was trying to be someone I wasn't."

"Well," William sighed. "I found out first hand how much better you are at acting than I am. I was very uncomfortable, and screwed up more times than I'd like to admit."

"Oh, that's so sweet!" Her warm lips kissed his hand. "I guess it was easier for me. I've never really felt comfortable in my body. It's taken me a long time to make it match who I am. When I was in Academy, I had so much pressure to live up to the expectations other people had, that it took me a while to find myself. I realized I was acting a role not to please me, but to please other people, and that simply had to change."

William got up on his elbows so he could look her in the face. "I love you just as you are, Grell. Don't ever feel like you need to change for me." He smiled, "I admit I don't always understand you, but honestly I prefer it that way."

There were tears in her eyes. "Oh Will!"

As they kissed, William could feel hot tears roll down her cheeks.

END


End file.
